The Aftermath of Murder
by Kadyn
Summary: When Olivia doesn't answer her cellphone Peter starts to worry something may have happened to her.  Now Complete! Please Enjoy :
1. Chapter 1

She didn't answer.

Peter flipped his phone shut in annoyance after the eighth time. Straight to voicemail, it had been over an hour and still he couldn't reach her. Flipping the phone back open Peter hit speed dial again, Holding the phone to his ear he silently counted off the unanswered rings in his head, three….four…

"Hi you've reached Olivia Dunham." _Not hardly_, Peter thought "Please leave me a message," Beep.

Peter snapped the phone shut grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch. Walter was shuffling out of the back room with some kind of substance in a beaker and a sip straw, Peter hoped it wasn't illegal, Astrid came into view behind him.

"Astrid I'm going out for a while can you…"

"Keep an eye on Walter? Sure thing" Astrid smiled eyes never leaving his father. "We were actually just talking about ice cream weren't we Walter?"

"What? Oh yes, I do love ice cream, we could make some you know, hallucinogenic properties aside I once created the most delightful flavor myself right here in this lab!"

"Right," Peter shook his head snatched the keys off the top of the piano and started heading for the door, "Hallucinogenic Vanilla scoops aside; you sure you'll be alright?"

"Oh don't be silly Peter," Walter chortled "Vanilla! It was Rocky Road!"

_Was it ever, As per usual the understatement of the year award goes to…_

Astrid reply cut off Peter's musings. "Of course Peter, go check on Olivia we'll be fine." Peter paused at the top of the stairs turning back to her.

"Oh come on, who else would you call that many times in a row?" He could have sworn Astrid just winked at him, but from across the lab it was difficult to be certain. And then she was suddenly preoccupied with stopping his father from sliding down the banister instead of taking the steps.

_Right_. _He wasn't that obvious was he? _

Peter shook his head and again turned to the door of the lab shutting it behind him, he hurried down the hall and out to the parking lot. Brain ticking off all the perfectly logical and reasonable explanations for why Olivia wouldn't answer her phone.

_Maybe she was sleeping, or in the shower, maybe she turned her cell phone off because she was in the middle of a really good book…maybe she had slipped and hit her head…_

_Maybe she with another man. _The voice Peter usually did his best to ignore when it came to its suggestions about Agent Olivia Dunham piped up unhelpfully, tying Peter's gut in a knot.

_Shut up_, Peter told himself, but felt his teeth grinding together at the thought.

_Agent Dunham is an adult, and is completely free to do whatever, with whom ever she chooses. _

So why did Peter suddenly feel like punching the dashboard at the next red light?

_It's nothing_, he told himself repeatedly, _she's probably asleep_.

They'd had a rough couple of days with the last case, and living through those murders like she was the one committing them had been hard enough for him to watch. He couldn't imagine what the experience had been like for her.

When Walter had put her under, and she'd been with the killer in the hotel room with that hooker; Peter's hands clutched the steering wheel turning his knuckles white, making his fingers ache at the memory.

Walter may have been momentarily confused by the noises Olivia had made but Peter had recognized them instantly. How could he not when almost every night the past six months he had been able to see nothing in his dreams except for Olivia laid out before him, making those very same noises for him, with his hands and his mouth on her. The phantom taste of her skin and mouth that was always on his tongue when he woke taunting him, his frustration rolling off of him in thick waves.

Peter felt his body twitch in response to just the memory of those soft moans and cries coming from her mouth.

_Jesus, Get a Grip._

It had gotten to the point that Peter could no longer take naps in the back room of the lab. Lest he wake up at the wrong moment, or with the wrong company and not only embarrass himself beyond belief but in the lab, where her scent was everywhere…He might do something he would really regret ruining this careful dance they did around each other, the achingly sweet and painful torture of having her so close; and yet so out of reach.

It had almost happened about three months ago.

Peter had been sleeping on the cot in his father's old office. He'd been up most of the night because Walter had taken to reciting aloud square roots, and prime numbers in sequence while standing in the bathtub at all hours of the night.

Crazy it seemed had no regard for bedtime.

He'd been dreaming of Olivia again, in a restless place between asleep and awake, partially conscious of Walter babbling to Astrid and then to Olivia in the Lab. When he'd felt her near him her cool hand against his shoulder he'd thought he was still dreaming, and reached for her his sleep warmed hands cupping her cheek his thumb running over her bottom lip.

She'd just stared at him for a second eyes un-focus, breath catching, he'd watched in fascination as her tongue had darted out to wet her lips.

"Peter?" Her voice had quivered, uncertainty in her eyes, and that's when he'd realized she wasn't a dream she wasn't His Olivia.

His Olivia came to him in the night, in the lab, at home, on cases, never hesitant; she was possessive and hot, and demanding.

Agent Dunham had protocols and procedures to follow. She was bound by her principles and her duties. She never looked at him the way _His Olivia_ did; with desire in her eyes and his name on her lips.

Peter had pulled his hand back, embarrassed at his slip-up. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks and hoped in the dim light of the half closed blinds in the office it was less noticeable then it felt. He rose to a sitting position, grateful for the throw he'd kept on the cot covering the more damning evidence of his dream; that was the last thing he needed.

"Are you okay?" Agent Dunham was hovering by him still, concern knitting her brow.

"Yeah," Peter cleared his throat running a hand through his helplessly mussed hair.

"Just a dream," he muttered before thinking better of it. _Shit._ Now she'd know he'd been dreaming about her.

A quick glance at her features showed that now it was indeed Olivia's turn to blush, she tucked her chin to her chest, teeth abusing her lower lip.

"Uh," she stood and took a few steps away from him as if distance could help. In the miniscule room Peter could still smell her hair, and his fingers itched with the memory of her skin under his palms.

"Walter was wondering if you knew where that folder was, the one you were reorganizing for him yesterday." She wouldn't meet his gaze, wouldn't look at him.

"Yeah, I'll get it for him in a minute," He really needed Olivia to leave the room. Calming himself down with her scent so close to him was going to be impossible. But she kept standing there waiting for him to move. Peter groaned and let his head fall back into the wall behind the cot with a thud. She did turn to look at him then, eyes wide.

"Peter?" she crossed the room to his side before he could stop her, standing in front of him bent forward at the waist she put a hand to his forehead.

"Are you sick?" Her hand felt impossibly cool against his heated skin, her hair loose around her head like a curtain of silk begging for his fingers to run through it, to pull her head down to his and….

Peter jerked back from her touch catching her wrist in his hand he met her gaze but not before his eyes ran over her body, taking in her perfectly tailored pant suit, her jacket must have been slung over a chair in the lab, the top two buttons on her shirt casually open revealing just the hint of soft skin near her clavicle. He could almost make out the outline of her bra through her shirt in this light with her leaned towards him.

Peter swallowed raising his eyes back to hers, and whatever she saw in them made her grow very still and quiet. Eyes wide she stood there wrist trapped in his fingers as he slowly drew his thumb across the soft skin in a lazy circular pattern.

_Did her breath just catch_? Peter continued to stare into her eyes, trying to remind his frazzled, sex-stupid brain that he needed to let her go, and get her the hell away from him before he pulled her into his lap and showed her exactly what was wrong with him.

"Peter" she was whispering. What a silly thing for her to do, Peter thought. It made him want to lean in closer to her.

"Hmmm?" his fingers traced up the inside of her forearm to circle the soft skin at her elbow, and now he definitely heard her breath catch, but in the next second her other hand was covering his stilling his motions.

"Peter," and there was that tongue again, darting out to lick those delicious lips of hers, the ones he wanted so badly to taste. Peter sat forward hand griping the back of her neck to pull her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

"Livia, _sweetheart_, if you don't get out of this room in the next thirty seconds you're going to have to shoot me. A man can only take so much." He'd pulled back slowly to rest against the wall again while she blinked at him, understanding suddenly dawning in her eyes. She'd swallowed hard, flushed harder, turned on her heel, and fled the room shutting the door behind her.

When he'd emerged from hiding a good ten minutes later she'd kept most of the lab between them, not meeting his gaze and beating a hasty retreat minutes later. It had been awkward to say the least, and over the next few weeks Peter had had to work hard to keep up his usually joking, carefree camaraderie, trying to prove to himself and her that nothing had changed. They could forget about it, it was just a single incident, a minute slip up on his part, no biggie. Nothing was happening between them.

_Right_. Maybe not to her, but Peter knew for him that was hardly the case. He never slept in the lab again.

Peter pulled the car into Olivia's parking lot and quickly found a space, even if it meant he'd have to run to the doors from across the lot.

Images of Olivia injured or worse, cycled through his mind, his own mini rolodex of torture.

_She's fine. She's fine._ He kept repeating to himself as he stabbed at the button for the elevator and impatiently rocked back and forth from heel to toe, cursing the inanimate object for its slowness. One of Olivia's neighbors entered the car with him and he had to suffer stopping at another floor before finally the doors opened and her hallway was presented to him.

Peter stopped at Olivia's door without having to look at the number, having come here too many times to count he didn't even need to look, just knock. His genius mind had probably kept some kind of record subconsciously for exactly how many steps it took to get from the elevator to her doorway.

_Twenty-seven steps, _his brain supplied. Peter knocked again, and waited. Nothing.

Her car was out there, he'd passed it on his way in.

_Maybe they took his car…maybe he's in there with her right now. __**SHUT UP.**_He viciously informed his brain to get bent and knocked again. This time calling her name, before pulling out the tools he kept in his pockets for just such an occasion.

Olivia was cold.

Flashes of the girl's faces kept filling her vision even with her eyes open.

The half bottle of wine, and then two glasses of gin she'd only kept in the house for John when he was alive, had done nothing to stop them.

If anything it was worse now, a never ending barrage of visual horrors. More horrible, more maddening and more real by the phantom memories of what it had felt like to fuck them and kill them. Their panicked eyes on hers as their expressions froze and their vision went glassy and sightless. The memory of mutilating their still warm bodies while her own body was still slick with sweat and other things crawled along her skin.

_Jesus, make it stop._

Olivia's head slipped back against the wet tile, freezing cold water pelting her now upturned face.

_When_ _had the water gotten so cold? _She wondered absently whole body shivers wracked her tiny frame proof that she'd failed to notice the absence of hot water for a while.

Olivia lifted her head again letting it fall back into the tiled wall of the shower once more, the resounding thud echoing off the tiny room's surface; momentarily making her ears ring.

That had hurt, and with that flash of pain followed a kind of clarity; a focus she'd been missing for the last few hours.

Olivia lifted her head again this time pushing her head back into the shower wall with more force then she really intended.

_**Crack**__. _

_Oww._

Stars flashed in her vision and everything got fuzzy for a moment. If she passed out here Olivia briefly wondered if she would drown and never wake up. She wondered if Walter would insist on doing her autopsy to look for hallucinogens and bio-chemical agents. She wondered if Peter would stick around for her funeral, or if he'd bolt the second she was gone.

She blinked hazily at the red blood now swirling down with the water beside her outstretched leg to circle the drain and disappear.

She wished Peter were here…someone should probably look at that. She mused.

A distant racket briefly pulled her attention from the color swirling down the drain, it sounded like someone was calling for her.

Olivia's head dipped back against shower tiles once more, feeling the now uneven surface pressing into the back of her abused skull and let her eyes slip shut. She just wanted it to go away, to be oblivious to the world for a night.

Peter swung the door to Olivia's apartment open with a nudge of his hand, sticking the small tools back inside his pocket he stepped forward into the darkened interior of the entryway cautiously.

It was one of those times Peter wished he carried a gun on a more regular basis instead of leaving it at home. Even if his packing heat made Agent Dunham frown. The severe frown, the one that made her forehead wrinkle up and her mouth pucker into a perfect little heart, while even her eyes turned harsh and disapproving.

It would be just his luck to show up unarmed if her attackers were still here.

_What attackers?_ He chastised himself; _someone has to be attacking her for her to not answer you?_

_Or fucking her._ His mind supplied having spotted the open bottle of wine and gin next to the kitchen sink.

The light was on in here, and he quickly studied the cabinet containing Olivia's glasses knowing how many should be in there having put them away several times absentmindedly while talking to her sister Rachel.

_God Rachel_. He so did **not** want to go there. What had he been thinking? She was sweet, if a bit insecure, and pretty, more curvy then Olivia and slightly shorter. But the real problem was that she _wasn't Olivia_.

Part of him was hoping if he was seeing someone, anyone it might end his obsession with his FBI partner.

Another part of him had wanted to get her attention; make her jealous. Make her notice him as something other than the mental codex and dictionary required to understand Walter's babblings.

_Her own sister, Jesus, and people thought he was a genius; he was an __**idiot**__. _

He'd ended it as quickly as he could, realizing his mistake instantly…the look of hurt that had crossed her face when he'd come to see Rachel and not her was like a knife to his gut; one that twisted and turned and festered each time he saw her.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Peter shook his head, only one glass missing from the cabinet.

_Drinking alone? _An image of Olivia passed out somewhere in the apartment filled his head and he almost grinned, now that would be funny to rib her about.

Peter called out to her again and began searching the other rooms for her presence, the spare bedroom Rachel and her daughter had used turned up empty.

_Thank god_, Peter was eternally grateful when Rachel had moved out again.

He had to avoid visiting Olivia at home for the awkward phase he'd had to call things off with her sister and distance himself from her. Thereby distancing him from a part of Olivia's life as well, part of her he'd missed desperately.

Olivia's bedroom was empty as well, aside from the empty cup on her nightstand, and the book discarded on the sleep rumpled sheets.

Peter entered the room lifting the cup to his nose.

_Straight gin? What the hell was she thinking?_ Obviously Olivia was planning to completely obliterate herself tonight.

The sound of water running in the bathroom caught his attention, and Peter approached the door rapping softly and calling out her name. When there was still no response he knocked louder. He'd been trying to reach her for over an hour, she couldn't have been in the shower for that long could she?

What if she had passed out, or hit her head. Peter debated with himself a split second longer before turning the knob pushing the door open, cautiously calling her name into the opening. Mentally crossing his fingers and hoping she didn't shoot him for this Peter opened the door and stepped through.

His brain froze in terror the moment he was in the room.

Olivia was indeed in the shower, her crumpled form against the back wall, looking like she'd slid down it. The tiles were cracked and there was blood dripping from her hair and running in diluted rivulets down her chest.

Peter swore grabbed a towel from the rack and turning off the water with a vicious twist reached for her, covering her body with the towel. Jesus, her skin felt like ice, the water dripping from her hair and body was unbearably cold, Peter couldn't imaging laying under that spray unless you were unconscious.

Which he confirmed Olivia was after shaking her and calling her name, he had to get her out of the shower and get her warmed up, she was shivering, Goosebumps covering every part of her body, her nipples hard peaks even beneath the towel.

_Stop it. _Peter bent to scoop her from the shower, her wet body fitting easily into his arms, making him suck in a breath where the cold came into contact with his skin even through his t-shirt.

Peter entered the bedroom and deposited her on the bed returning to the bathroom for two more towels he began drying the freezing water from her legs arms and body, all the time talking to her, asking her to wake up, Peter was just reaching for his cell phone when she called his name. Relief flooded through him, he'd known she wasn't dead…and the cut on the back of her head was not as bad as it had originally looked, being a head wound, it was more dramatic than it actually was serious. It had stopped bleeding almost immediately after he'd removed her from the running water and applied some pressure; blotting it dry had shown it was a minor cut and probably would not require stitches or a head CT if she would just wake up.

Peter wrapped a towel around her head partially to keep the little bit of blood that was there from ruining her bedspread, as well as attempt to warm her body. He kept up a steady stream of words, not really paying attention to what he was saying simply hoping to call her back from where ever she'd gone, while briskly drawing the towels across her now dry limbs trying to get the circulation back to her pale cold fingers and toes.

"Peter?"

"Hey, welcome back stranger," Peter moved up the bed to sit beside her. "What the hell happened?"

Olivia swallowed, and a shiver racked her body. Peter retrieved the throw from the end of the bed, having to lean across her body to reach it and pulled it across her body. She surprised him by rolling towards him hands clutching in his now wet shirt. "God It's freezing."

"Yeah I hear the Polar Bear club has that issue too, considering how cold that water was I think I'm gonna have to ask to see your membership card."

"I hit my head,"

"Yes, I can see that. Do you happen to know how long you were in there?" Olivia was busy pulling him towards her and burrowing herself into his chest; towel, blanket and all.

"I don't know, it was six I think when I went in."

Peter glanced at the numerics on the bedside clock it was 7:45 now.

"So what was the plan for tonight, get drunk and drowned in the shower?" He was going for light teasing though her face immediately blanched, like a sour taste had filled her mouth.

"I couldn't get them out of my head, all those girls. I kept seeing it in my head, it wouldn't stop Peter."

Peter's eyes closed for a moment; guilt and self loathing jocking for top emotion. He should have known she would be more affected by this last case then she would let on. Why hadn't he been here? Why had he left her alone to deal with this?

"We've got to get you warm. I should probably get you some hot tea and some dry clothes, some more blankets" Peter started to move from the bed but Olivia's hands fisted in his wet shirt stopped him.

"You're warm,"

"Yes I am." _Getting warmer by the second. _

"Don't leave me, please." It was barely a whisper.

"Whatever m'lady wants." Peter dropped to his elbow pulling her body against his feeling the shudders wracking through her. What the hell, he had body heat to spare_._ He'd just try to ignore the fact that under that blanket and towel she was completely naked, and the fact that Olivia Dunham was more than just a little intoxicated right now. When would he ever get an opportunity like this again, to lay with her like this, smell her hair under his chin, to feel her tucked safely against his body breathing in and out in a steady rhythm. And with an invitation; under normal circumstances, if Peter found himself in this position he would have expected to find himself quickly acquainted with the business end of her Glock.

Peter felt Olivia's freezing hands under the hem of his shirt, his stomach muscles jumped when her cold fingers touched him. "This is wet, take it off."

Peter blinked down at her, _was she serious? _ "Was that a drunken pass or are you just happy to see me?"

Olivia's only response was a quirk of her lips and when she continued to tug at his shirt he figured she was probably just as single minded and determined intoxicated as she was sober. Though he had to admit he was finding her intoxicated requests much more fun than her normal sober ones. With any Olivia request it was simply easier to give in then to ask questions, she was going to get what she wanted one way or another. Rolling onto his back Peter lifted the wet article over his head and tossed it aside to land on the floor. Olivia's hands started tracing up and down his chest, causing Peter's breath to hiss out for reasons other than just the chill in her touch.

Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly felt overly dry; he needed to be very, very careful here.

This was his partner, and while she might want him here now, in the morning when she was sober and warm she would most certainly be embarrassed by all of this.

"Livia, I think I should get you more blankets." He had to get up, get away from his sexy, wet, naked partner before he devoured her whole like a starving man.

"I don't need more blankets," she moved to get closer to him, the blanket Peter had draped over her form falling away, so he had to reach out and grab it to keep it over her, unfortunately when she threw her leg over his and practically climbed onto his chest causing his heart rate to jump he realized he had to put it over both of them to keep her covered.

Great so here he was half naked, with a fully naked Olivia, in her bedroom all alone, and there was alcohol and a possible head injury involved. This had restraining order and bullet wounds written all over it.

Olivia sighed against his chest; the cold strains of her hair that had escaped the towel around her head were cold against his bare skin. Peter found his hand absently rubbing up and down the muscles of her upper back trying to warm them, but also enjoying the feel of having her under his fingers, of being able to touch her like this.

A few moments later Olivia seemed to have fallen asleep against him, leaving Peter in the very uncomfortable position of being awake and very aroused with his untouchable but oh so close and tantalizing partner draped across his body.

A stronger man would have kept his hands to himself, Peter reminded himself as he continued to trace his way up and down her back; his other hand joined the expedition tracing patterns and massaging the arm that was draped across him.

Just warming her up, yeah right, God how long had he wanted to touch her like this? He'd ached for months to casually run his fingers over her skin, to see if it really was as soft as it looked. Just like the soft skin of her wrist and inner elbow, the skin on her back was like silk under his hands, soft flesh and hard muscle that was both capable and feminine, and completely Olivia. Even the small light scattering of freckles visible on her shoulder fascinated him. She was a work of art, a sculpture and painters dream.

Peter reached behind him pulling one of Olivia's pillows towards them and allowing his head to flop back and stare at the ceiling, hands still drawing their absentminded patterns across his new favorite canvas. He sighed and tried to close his eyes, he was exhausted, he should try to sleep, wouldn't that be better than to lay here awake torturing himself, with Olivia's body so close to his own?

Peter kept his eyes closed still allowing his hands to wonder the small patches of skin he deemed 'friendly touching' nothing to intimate. He tried to regulate his breathing to a steady in and out, a restful relaxed rhythm he didn't quite feel yet but Peter kept at it until finally his motion's stilled and he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Olivia woke with the startling realization that she wasn't alone.

She could feel the warm mass of someone's body pressed into her own. Someone's breath drifted softly across her cheek in deep slumber. One hand curled around her chest keeping her body firmly in contact with his. The full length of his torso was pressed to hers, one of his legs entangled between her feet. Olivia felt her body tense for a breath before she felt her companion mumble something in his sleep.

_Peter._

Olivia's fuzzy brain remembered getting into the shower much, much earlier that evening after a little too much alcohol on an empty stomach. She'd gotten dizzy and sat down and then just never bothered to get up.

She didn't remember Peter pulling her from the shower but she did remember him toweling her dry and covering her with a blanket. She also remembered requesting he remove his shirt empowered by the alcohol running through her veins. She'd wanted to lay her head on his chest; it was a secret fantasy that would have been ruined by the wet shirt being in her way. He'd obliged though he looked near panicked about it and she'd curled up against him.

She must have fallen asleep like that and at some point in the night have rolled over; Peter having followed her movement even in his sleep was now curled against her back…her naked back.

Olivia realized that at some point in their shifting she'd lost the towel from across her chest, her bare warm back was pressed skin to skin against Peter's chest. What's more the arm curled around her in an almost possessive act was against her bare skin as well, Peters hand almost cupping her breast.

Olivia's breath caught in her throat, and she couldn't stop her flesh from pebbling to attention under Peter's sleeping hand.

God, what had she gotten herself into? This was going to be so much more embarrassing then the time she'd woken him in Walter's office when he was dreaming about her.

Peter's breath remained steady and even, so at least she hadn't woken him yet. Olivia debated the odds of getting out of bed and possibly moving to another country without waking him.

Probably no chance of that, she was just going to have to face the music; this was her own fault after all. She'd been stupid enough to lure him into staying; knowing deep down that he wouldn't refuse her request.

She was such an idiot; she was going to have a hard time looking him in the eye after this.

Then again maybe not.

Olivia was well aware that Peter was attracted to her.

He had made it pretty obvious that he found her attractive from the beginning of their partnership. They'd shared enough heated looks and seemingly innocent touches that had made her face flush and heat pool in places that were not supposed to be affected by your partner.

Olivia may not be bold enough to make a move on Peter in front of the FBI director but here in the quiet silence of her bedroom, with the heat of Peter's body behind her and his soft breath on her neck it was tempting, achingly so to see what would happen if she just let it happen instead of running away.

Peter always pushed her; it was in his nature to push and test until he met a wall. And even when met with an insurmountable object, Peter treated it like a unique puzzle, utilizing that genius mind, he began orchestrating a way over or under that wall.

He'd been slowly tunneling his way under her skin for months now; she wasn't even sure when it had happened, but suddenly Olivia found herself trusting Peter's instincts as much as her own; seeking out his company, wanting to hear his voice at random moments; feeling her breath catch in her throat when he looked at her from across the room like all he wanted to do was devour her.

The same look he'd given her in Walter's office that afternoon.

He'd pushed her than, with the small act of caressing her skin; this was no simple touch; no accidental caress, it was slow and deliberate his eyes burning into hers, heating the blood in her veins with barely a whisper of his skin across hers. She'd felt naked and completely exposed under the searing heat in that look.

He'd advised her to run; but his eyes had sent her a different message; his eyes were hungry; and challenging. They offered heat, and pleasure, they promised a sinful seduction and an addiction that would surely consume her if she wasn't careful.

He was daring her to stay; and she'd chickened out and bolted, still unable to accept that this was more than just a game to him.

He'd worked hard over the next few weeks to keep things light between them; and slowly she'd relaxed again. Fallen back into their comfortable rhythm.

She almost thought he'd given up until she'd catch him from across the room with that look. He'd give her that crooked smile that should be illegal and bore his eyes into hers for just a moment too long, making her flush and her breathing come faster.

Peter had dared her to stay; it was an open invitation and now he was waiting for her to accept it.

Heat pooled low in her belly at just the memory of that look, sending delicious tingles racing along her limbs and skittering across her skin with each breath Peter took. God she wanted him, she knew that she was more than just attracted to him, she was intrigued and fascinated with her partner.

She'd felt an almost gravitational pull towards him since the first time they met. It had started with her eyes, she'd felt them drifting to him at random moments even before she knew if he would stay; she'd felt pulled to him; centered around him.

Like her own personal gravitational well, his unique influence had quickly started acting on all portions of her life; both work and personal. He was firmly entrenching himself deeper and deeper into the very fabric of who she was, little by little effecting how she acted and reacted in turn.

She'd fought it then; hard, telling herself it was just the absence of a male presence in her life; the loneliness, guilt and abandonment she felt after John's death.

But it was so much more then that; it was Peter. She'd tried lamely to see others for a very short and awkward time; but she'd always ended up comparing them to her partner; leaving her more frustrated and isolated.

She'd given up about eight months ago and decided to just take a break from dating; just for now she'd told herself. Since then more and more of her time was consumed with case work and by association; Peter.

It was no coincidence, she thought, that she was always ready at the drop of a hat to flit across the country or across town; she stayed that way at all times. Not just because it was 'the job' and she'd destroyed any social life she might have had; but because it meant she would get to make that call and hear his voice.

She'd give him some quip about an all expense paid trip; or a grand prize and he'd grip about being woken at the ass-end of dawn or in the dead of night and she'd laugh and give him some line about saving the world and paying the bills; or promise to get Walter a flurry at Dairy Queen. Just to hear that grin in his voice through the line.

It was so much easier at those moments; less terrifying to give a bit more of herself over when they weren't face to face; to open up just a bit even if it was about something so trivial as cracking a joke about not being able to solve anything without him.

Much easier to hide her fears and go with what felt right.

When she saw him in person half an hour later; he'd grin at her as he opened the door and she'd smile back her 'Agent' persona already firmly back in place. Safe behind the badge.

But lately she'd felt more than just the slide of her gaze to him. As if his gravitational pull had intensified; or perhaps her own had weakened; she'd felt more drawn to him. She'd felt the need to stand closer to him; to touch him; and the longing for him to touch her, any contact with his skin seemed to send electric currents across her entire surface; rippling out across her until no part of her was unaffected.

She'd found herself aching to be in his company; in the car; in the lab; at his home; she'd stop in just to check on them; make sure they didn't need anything; or do drop off some tiny bit of paperwork or information that could have just have easily been delivered via phone call; but she'd miss seeing that grin on his face when he opened the door for her; and the nonchalant; and at the same time almost nervous way he'd run his fingers through his unruly hair as he held the door open for her ushering her in with the sweep of his arm.

She wouldn't stay long; always some excuse to leave; least she stay and reveal her true intentions. And if Peter guessed them he was polite enough not to say. He'd simply smile at her and ask her if she was sure she couldn't stay; that glint in his eye as he'd lean in just a bit making her breath catch in her throat. She'd nod her head; offer her excuse and bolt for the door before he could charm her right out of her senses.

Olivia took a steadying breath. Here in the dark and peaceful quiet of her own bedroom; perhaps still a bit bolstered by the alcohol from earlier in the night; she didn't feel so afraid. She felt safe; and secure in Peter's embrace.

What if, Olivia pondered, she didn't run from Peter? What then?

She couldn't run forever; eventually one of them would crack. Olivia had always been a take charge kind of girl; except when it came to Peter. He'd made it obvious that he was interested; now she just needed to accept his challenge.

No time like the present. Olivia took a deep steadying breath and began to take more stock in her position. She'd completely lost her towel; she couldn't feel it's soft texture against her body at all; leaving Peter's soft faded jeans as the only barrier between them.

How bold could she really be? Olivia pulled her lower lip between her teeth worrying it back and forth as she decided the best way to proceed. She was more than certain Peter would not turn her down, not with the way things had been between them the last few months.

She was certain he wanted her.

That he had only been waiting for her to give the green light so to speak. Wanting to push her to this conclusion but not drive her there, she'd never been the type of girl to accept that kind of direction anyway; and Peter had known that, and used it to his advantage. Teasing and leading where she was more than willing to follow in her own time, and on her own terms.

So here she was in the driver's seat, Olivia's lips quirked into a smile as she felt Peter's hips against her own, wiggling her hips just a fraction she felt his bodies unconscious though still impressive response against her; even as his breathing stayed steady and even, deep in sleep. _Definitely in the driver's seat_. _Question was, how fast and how far did she want to drive?_

Peter's dream could not have been more perfect. His brain it seemed after months of trying had finally managed to capture the feel of her perfectly, her soft skin; her silky hair, even her smell.

Peter inhaled deeply taking in the sweet and alluring scent that was Olivia, and Only Olivia; Trying to pull in her very essence all the way to his toes like a blanket for the senses.

She smelled like the air after a heavy rain, and the sweetly scented brown sugar lotion she occasionally used. Her hair smelt like apples and faintly of some bar soap he couldn't quite classify; she smelled like safety, and intrigue, like danger and perfection all at once.

And the way she was rubbing herself along the length of his body was simply delicious. Almost like a cat's casual stretch her body flexed and arched against him; muscles sliding under silk smooth skin against his own; Peter flexed his arms around her pulling her closer to his chest; fitting her entire length against him; He loved these dreams of her; how perfect they felt; how infinitely right. Peter drew his nose across the hollow of her neck breathing her in and hearing and feeling her breath catch as his lips ghosted across her back.

He never wanted to wake up, he wondered if not for the first time it was possible to make some kind of cocktail in his father's lab that combined with the sensory deprivation chamber would allow him to follow this dream to its conclusion as so rarely happened. Peter wondered if his father would warn him of the potentially obsession he could fall into; of the madness he could become trapped in; Unable to separate reality from dreams. Similar to when Olivia had used the tank to try and access John Scott's memories. It wouldn't matter if Peter was addicted to his dream Olivia; he mused; he was already Addicted to the real one; at least in his dreams he could touch her, he was already going mad.

More often than not Peter would awaken far too soon from his dream realm, reaching for an Olivia that wasn't there. Then he'd lie awake for hours afterward in frustration, cursing himself for letting her slip away too soon.

Many times he gave up after just a few hours of chasing sleep and would go for a run, not just a steady even jog, but a full out run that was both mind numbing and exhilarating at the same time; he would run like the hounds of hell themselves were at his heels; run like he was trying to get to her; run like he could get away from her. Until he was gasping for air, dizzy and near collapse muscles shaking and sweat running in rivulets down his face; even when it was snowing. Then he'd turn and head back towards the home he shared with his Father, at a slower more even and measured pace.

He would always arrive home utterly exhausted and then, sometimes, after a hot shower and a glass of water, sleep would come to him; a dreamless empty tomb of sleep that left him feeling less rested then he had on the return from his run.

Other times he'd return to find Walter rearranging the furniture or his many accessories, or on truly unfortunate occasions attempting to bake something; and Peter would conclude that he had little choice but to accept the start of his day. Least he try to rest and Walter wander from the house or God forbid find the keys Peter kept hidden and attempt to retrieve some tasty treat or another with no money and no license or concept of basic traffic laws.

But this dream, Peter felt her body shift against his again; no this dream was going perfectly and Peter had the sinking suspicion that if he woke from this one too soon he could run to California and back and he would still never sleep again.

Breathing in her scent again Peter allowed his hands to drift across her skin.

Feeling the Goosebumps rise along her arms and her nipples pebble under his fingers, rolling them expertly between the pads of his fingers bringing the soft whisper of his name to her breath.

Peter raised his head to taste the soft skin behind her ear, enjoying the soft catches in her breath and the rock of her hips against his. Using his hands Peter turned her body so she was on her back and began exploring her with his mouth again, his favorite nocturnal pastime, devouring Olivia.

Her soft skin and taut pink nipples under his lips and tongue the catch in her breath and appreciative moan when he allowed his teeth to graze just barely across her flesh before soothing the sting with his tongue; counting every rib with his fingers; discovering every nook and swell she had to possessed; and was offering to his fervent exploration.

Hearing her moan his name and feeling her fingers on his shoulders, in his hair letting him know with her soft touch and gasps where to spend more time, when to slow down, and when to speed up.

Peter took his time exploring the soft globes of her flesh, the smooth planes of her stomach, nipping at her hip, teasing the soft flesh of her inner thigh with his breath, making her whimper and moan, hips rotating towards him in silent invitation before he obliged devouring every inch of her skin. His arms wrapped around her keeping her still for his ministrations hands possessive and yet gentle against her silk smooth skin.

She tasted like heaven, and the way her hips bucked and her breathy voice moaned his name was driving him slowly insane, she hadn't even touched him yet, and he was already worked to a fever pitch.

Just from the taste of her on his tongue, and the smell of her, the sound of her gasping his name, begging him, pleading. A man could spend his entire life questing to satisfy those pleas and not regret a single moment, not one would have been a waste, just to see her like this.

Peter added his fingers to the erotic dance of his tongue across her flesh, pressing them into her, and softly drawing delicate patterns against her slick folds, a few soft rhythms and a flick of his tongue and Olivia shattered under his hands, back arching in a delicious display of skin.

Peter raised his head to watch her bringing his fingers to pump inside her slick trembling folds, heightening and extending her orgasm with expert precision, curling his fingers to just the right spot stroking her once, twice, there, just like that.

God she was beautiful like this, Head thrown back, pale throat and breasts catching the soft moon light, the filtered light through the tree outside her bedroom window leaving dappled patchy patterns across the smooth expanse of her stomach and hips, hands clenched in the bed sheets, she looked possessed, and utterly abandoned of every pretense, this was just Olivia, raw, whole, unfiltered and uncensored.

His Olivia laid out before him for the taking.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Do not own, but I want them for Christmas? Pleeease?

The Aftermath of Murder

Chapter 3

Peter's dream could not have been more perfect. His brain it seemed after months of trying had finally managed to capture the feel of her perfectly, her soft skin; her silky hair, even her smell.

Peter inhaled deeply taking in the sweet and alluring scent that was Olivia, and Only Olivia; Trying to pull in her very essence all the way to his toes like a blanket for the senses.

She smelled like the air after a heavy rain, and the faintly sweet scented brown sugar lotion she occasionally used. Her hair smelt like apples and softly of some bar soap he couldn't quite classify; she smelled like safety, and intrigue, like danger and perfection all at once.

And the way she was rubbing herself along the length of his body was simply delicious. Almost like a cat's casual stretch her body flexed and arched against him; muscles sliding under silk smooth skin against his own; Peter flexed his arms around her pulling her closer to his chest; fitting her entire length against him; He loved these dreams of her; how perfect they felt; how infinitely right. Peter drew his nose across the hollow of her neck breathing her in and hearing and feeling her breath catch as his lips ghosted across her back.

He never wanted to wake up, he wondered if not for the first time it was possible to make some kind of cocktail in his father's lab that combined with the sensory deprivation chamber would allow him to follow this dream to its conclusion as so rarely happened. Peter wondered if his father would warn him of the potential obsession he could fall into; of the madness he could become trapped in.

Unable to separate reality from dreams. Similar to when Olivia had used the tank to try and access John Scott's memories. It wouldn't matter if Peter was addicted to his dream Olivia; he mused; he was already addicted to the real one; at least in his dreams he could touch her, he was already going mad.

More often than not Peter would awaken far too soon from his dream realm, reaching for an Olivia that wasn't there. Then he'd lie awake for hours afterward in frustration, cursing himself for letting her slip away too soon.

Many times he gave up after just a few hours of chasing sleep and would go for a run, not just a steady even jog, but a full out run that was both mind numbing and exhilarating at the same time.

He would run like the hounds of hell themselves were at his heels; run like he was trying to get to her; run like he could get away from her. Until he was gasping for air, dizzy and near collapse, muscles shaking and sweat running in rivulets down his face; even when it was snowing.

Then he'd turn and head back towards the home he shared with his Father, at a slower more even and measured pace.

He would always arrive home utterly exhausted and then, sometimes, after a hot shower and a glass of water, sleep would come to him; a dreamless empty tomb of sleep that left him feeling less rested then he had on the return from his run.

Other times he'd return to find Walter rearranging the furniture or his many accessories, or on truly unfortunate occasions attempting to bake something; and Peter would conclude that he had little choice but to accept the start of his day. Least he try to rest and Walter wander from the house or God forbid find the keys Peter kept hidden and attempt to retrieve some tasty treat or another with no money and no license or concept of basic traffic laws.

But this dream, Peter felt her body shift against his again; no this dream was going perfectly and Peter had the sinking suspicion that if he woke from this one too soon he could run to California and back and he would still never sleep again.

Breathing in her scent again Peter allowed his hands to drift across her skin.

Feeling the Goosebumps rise along her arms and her nipples pebble under his fingers, rolling them expertly between the pads of his fingers bringing the soft whisper of his name to her breath.

Peter raised his head to taste the soft skin behind her ear, enjoying the soft catches in her breath and the rock of her hips against his. Using his hands Peter turned her body so she was on her back and began exploring her with his mouth again, his favorite nocturnal pastime, devouring Olivia.

Her soft skin and taut pink nipples under his lips and tongue the catch in her breath and appreciative moan when he allowed his teeth to graze just barely across her flesh before soothing the sting with his tongue; counting every rib with his fingers; discovering every nook and swell she had to possessed; and was offering to his fervent exploration.

Hearing her moan his name and feeling her fingers on his shoulders, in his hair letting him know with her soft touch and gasps where to spend more time, when to slow down, and when to speed up.

Peter took his time exploring the soft globes of her flesh, the smooth planes of her stomach, nipping at her hip, teasing the soft flesh of her inner thigh with his breath, making her whimper and moan, hips rotating towards him in silent invitation before he obliged devouring every inch of her skin. His arms wrapped around her keeping her still for his ministrations. His hands possessive and yet gentle against her silk smooth skin.

She tasted like heaven, and the way her hips bucked and her breathy voice moaned his name was driving him slowly insane, she hadn't even touched him yet, and he was already worked to a fever pitch. Just from the taste of her on his tongue, and the smell of her, the sound of her gasping his name, begging him, pleading.

A man could spend his entire life questing to satisfy those pleas and not regret a single moment, not one would have been a waste, just to see her like this.

Peter added his fingers to the erotic dance of his tongue across her flesh, pressing them into her, and softly drawing delicate patterns against her slick folds, a few soft rhythms and a flick of his tongue and Olivia shattered under his hands, back arching in a sensual display of skin.

Peter raised his head to watch her bringing his fingers to pump inside her slick trembling folds, heightening and extending her orgasm with expert precision, curling his fingers to just the right spot stroking her once, twice, there, just like that.

God she was beautiful like this, Head thrown back, pale throat and breasts catching the soft moon light, the filtered light through the tree outside her bedroom window leaving dappled patchy patterns across the smooth expanse of her stomach and hips, hands clenched in the bed sheets, she looked possessed, and utterly abandoned of every pretense, this was just Olivia, raw, whole, unfiltered and uncensored.

His Olivia laid out before him for the taking.

Slowly Olivia came back to herself. The racing pulse in her ears thrumming through her core, and little twitches of electricity raced up and down every limb like invisible hands.

Oh God.

She'd known that sex with Peter would be intense, that he would embark upon the task with the same focus and obsession he showed in other aspects of his life; his commitment to their job; and caring for Walter, the effort he showed daily to get her attention in little ways, subtle but intense.

Like a smoldering fire, the heat Peter gave off was more intense when you couldn't see the flames; when you approached him and were blindsided by the heat in his eyes, the caress of his hand appearing to outsiders as nothing more than a gentle touch was like a brand to her skin. His eyes and Hands said things to her that others couldn't see.

I see you.

I want you.

His crooked smile when she blushed said that he knew she wanted him too.

She was more than smoldering now, she was engulfed in the slow burn of flames that Peter had fanned and fueled day after day, she was burning up. His hands no longer asked for permission; they staked their claim.

Mine.

"Peter, Please…"

Olivia allowed her hands to trace the muscles in his shoulders and tangle in the unruly hair that never seemed to be in place, but always looked perfect.

Peter turned his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and then raising himself up on his knees moved to kiss her; to claim her mouth with his own.

God he tasted like possession itself, he was dark, and daring; gentle but firm, one forearm holding him above her, while his fingers tangled in her hair, lifted her chin held her to him.

He kissed like a man possessed, like a man lost, and found, he kissed her like it was his last act on this earth and this was his heaven.

Every emotion Olivia ever had for this man she poured into this kiss; Hope, Trust, Need, Love. She didn't just need Peter, she craved him, his scent his presence, his voice, and touch, those secret gazes that spoke to her of heated things that should only be whispered in the dark.

She was enveloped by the very essence of everything that was Peter, hopelessly entangled with him down to her soul.

Olivia's fingers found the clasp on Peter's belt and began working blindly to free him from this last offending article that dared to separate them.

She felt Peter smile against her mouth and felt his breath catch in his throat as she popped the top button on his jeans free. Smiling at her own victory Olivia worked the zipper down enough to tug the jeans from his hips.

"In a hurry to get me naked Sweetheart?" Peter's breath against her neck sent tingles racing up and down her spine. His pet name for her sent liquid fire racing through her core, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a grin.

"I thought I told you not to call me Sweetheart." She punctuated her sentence with her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly but firmly, savoring the feel of him beneath her fingers. Appreciating his length and girth, she was not disappointed.

"I'll call you whatever you want if you keep doing that," His voice came out strained and choked against her neck. "Jesus, 'Liv,"

Olivia enjoyed watching his muscles tremble; feeling his breath shake and his body jump under her hands; but she wanted more, she wanted to feel his body sliding against hers, needed to feel the weight of him pressing down into her, she wanted all of him, not just this.

Olivia hooked her right leg over his thigh and using her already busy hand pulled him down to where she wanted him, she stroked him and shifted her hips until she could feel him pressed to the slick heat of her entrance, so close, her body ached for this, trembled with need. Just a few more inches and he would be inside her, Olivia rolled her hips against him stroking him with her fingers rubbing him up and down her soft folds.

Peter had gone very still against her, holding his breath against her neck. His muscles trembled and his breath hitched.

"What are you waiting for?" Olivia used her fingers to trace his erection over her again, feeling her own body quiver and shudder with need.

"I'm afraid I'm going to wake up again," His fingers cupped the back of her head, twisted through her hair, holding her to him, afraid she would fade away.

"Peter, Look at me."

Slowly Peter raised his head from the crook of her neck to meet her eyes. In the pale light they seemed to glow with an otherworldly light like vivid blue stars; Burning with need, with want, with passion and love, for her. Only for her.

Olivia rolled her hips again bringing him down to her with the weight of her leg against his thigh feeling his heavy erection slide against the folds of her core, her hips raising to meet him without conscious thought, desperate to take more of him in.

"You're not dreaming Peter," Olivia's body shuddered and clutched at the intrusion, sending waves of pleasure shooting through her limbs Dropping her head back against the bed Olivia stroked him once more her body throbbed with need, she felt like she would go insane waiting for him to fill her.

"Peter, Please…God…Please"

Feeling the slick folds of Olivia's body shudder around the tip of his shaft , hearing her beg him, feeling her fingers stroke him from base to where their bodies joined was almost enough to send Peter over the edge; but the realization that this was real…that this was not some dream world fantasy come to drive him over the edge of madness and leave him unfulfilled, frustrated and alone as it had so many nights before, was almost a slap in the face.

How had he ended up here? Peter struggled with his sex addled brain to remember, how had he come to wake up with Olivia not only in his arms but naked and begging him to touch her, to fill her body with his own.

Peter was almost certain that this was still some dream, no some nightmare that he would wake from the moment he attempted to fulfill her request, leaving him to lay awake tortured and alone.

"Please, Peter"

Dream or not, He'd never been able to deny her anything.

Tilting her hips up to his with one hand Peter slowly pressed himself forward and into her waiting heat, hearing her gasp and feeling her body clench around his was sweet ecstasy. Watching with rapt attention the way she thrashed against the bed when he stopped only halfway to enjoy every feeling, every sensation and emotion of this long awaited moment.

"Peter, please, don't stop," she rocked up against him, fingers twisted in the bed sheets. Her breath coming in heavy pants. Peter watched fascinated as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and her eyes met his darkened to near black she held his gaze, fingers tracing up his arms to circle his neck tugging his face down to hers and thrusting her hips up to take him all the way in.

Peter thrust down into her waiting body, and with a groan buried himself in her burning wet heat. Peter pulled his mouth from hers resting his head against the crook of her neck, trying to catch his breath, still his raging heartbeat and collect himself. She felt so good below him, surrounding him, touching every part of his body she could reach. She whimpered and moaned , gasped his name and clung to his shoulders as he retreated and drove his body into her again.

God he could die like this and go perfectly happy. This was ecstasy, this was every good thing in his life he'd ever wanted, or thought he did rolled into one and magnified by the million tiny nerve endings dancing under his skin, thrumming in pleasure to the tempo of his bodies thrusts. His mind could go on like this forever, cataloging and memorizing every gasp, every moan, every roll of her hips to meet his own; Peter's body and Olivia's it seemed had other plans.

Peter felt the first tremors of Olivia's orgasm and watched as she closed her eyes letting her head fall back and exposing her throat to his mouth, changing the angle of his hips to rub against her most sensitive spot with each thrust Peter started a new rhythm one designed to push her over the edge and take him with her.

A few deep thrusts and the scrap of his teeth against her skin and she was flying apart, shuddering and quaking beneath him, her body enveloping him, pulling him in deeper, tighter hotter, and sweeter then he'd ever experienced before; or ever imagined possible.

Two more deep thrusts and he was following her over the edge, her name and gods on his lips.

When he became aware of himself again, his heavy breathing tickling against the curve of her neck, Olivia's hands were tracing up and down his back her breath still coming in little pants, as her body continued to contract and pulse around him.

"Well that was certainly worth waiting for," Peter raised his head to tangle his fingers in her hair, Watching Olivia's eyes open boring into his. She looked happy and relaxed, boneless and sated. Peter had the momentary impulse to beat his chest and flex his muscles, revel in his ability to make her look this way, flushed and exotic, yet relaxed and happy. "Please tell me I don't have to wait three years to do that again,"

Olivia grinned up at him her eyes sparkling with mischief as she experimentally flexed the muscles in her core squeezing Peter's still sensitive member and making him gasp and roll his hips.

"How about in the morning?"

"And every morning after that?" Peter gazed down at her, cupping the side of her face with his warm hand, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip.

"I want every morning to be like this." He studied her expression watched her eyes deepen and darken again in the pale moonlight; memorizing the new depth to them he had only caught glimmers of before.

She knew what he was asking, without hearing the words.

"Every morning, everyday, I want to be with you like this." Not as a partner, not as just a friend, but as the other half of his soul.

Peter kissed her mouth, tangling his fingers in her sex mused hair he rolled them so they were side by side and he could cradle her body to him as they drifted off to sleep.

Finis


End file.
